


Under the Heart Tree

by wolfwithwoodenteeth



Series: 31 Days of Jonsa [4]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Jon and Sansa Are Not Related, Jon and Sansa are the most adorkable couple you ever met
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-24 00:41:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13799751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfwithwoodenteeth/pseuds/wolfwithwoodenteeth
Summary: Sansa gets an invitation to meet Jon at the ancient weirwood tree...Written for Day 8 of 31 Days of Jonsa - Proposal





	Under the Heart Tree

**Author's Note:**

> Canon!Sansa always struck me as a bit of a nerd with all of her knowledge about history and heraldry, so I guess that's what inspired me to write her as a museum guide here :)
> 
> I have two very different proposal headcanons for modern AU Jon and Sansa.
> 
> On the one hand I imagine the two of them to be introverted homebodies, with Jon preferring to pop the question within the privacy of their own home, just the two of them, and no one else around.
> 
> But on the other hand, deep down, Jon is hopelessly romantic and he knows Sansa has always dreamt about that grand gesture. It has to be meaningful and if there's an audience, it needs to be her family and friends. He'd be so incredibly nervous, but he just wants to do it right for her.
> 
> For this one, I went with the second option ;)

Sansa hit the snooze button four times before finally rolling out of bed. She shoved her feet into her fluffy pink slippers and shuffled to the kitchen. 

She made herself a cup of coffee, loading it with milk and sugar, forcing her eyes to stay open and resisting the temptation to crawl back into bed. She'd never been a morning person, but this was her day off and she didn't want it to be half over by spending the morning alone in bed.

If Jon had been at home, staying in bed might have been exactly what they would have done, but he'd already left for work hours before. She was meeting Margaery for brunch later, but she still had a little free time on her hands before she needed to get ready.

Just as she was about to go out the door, her phone vibrated. It was a text from Jon.

_\- Good morning, my love. Meet me at the weirwood tree tonight around 6? ILY_

She blinked at her phone. The weirwood tree was the heart of the ancient Godswood surrounding the old Winterfell Castle, where Sansa worked as a museum guide. It was one of her favourite places there.

As a child the tree's bloody face had scared her, but later when she'd learned people used to believe the Old Gods could see them through those trees, and that anything important should be done before the Heart Tree as they called it, she'd come to love the idea of it.

Countless generations had prayed, sworn oaths, and married in front of that tree. Some even suggested marriage used to be consummated under it. She'd heard the less savoury rumours about human sacrifice and vengeful spirits, but she usually ignored those, only mentioning them in passing to the visiting groups.

She often got excited about every new story she heard, repeating all of them to Jon, and he suffered through all of it with patience, for which she loved him very much.

She checked her phone again. There was another message from Jon.

_\- Wear something nice. I'm very partial to that blue dress you bought in White Harbour ;)_

She narrowed her eyes at the screen. That was an odd request. She obviously knew that indeed he liked that dress very much (though she suspected he still preferred taking it off), but combined with the fact that he'd made plans behind her back, it made a tingle run down her spine.

***

When she told Margaery about the texts over a large stack of pancakes, her friend's eyebrows shot up into her hairline, but then a wide grin took over her face.

"Hey, I need a little support here! I have no idea what to make of this! This isn't Jon!" she whispered angrily, emphatically jabbing a finger at her phone.

Marge shrugged and took a dainty sip of champagne. "You like surprises, don't you?"

"I do," she agreed, spreading cream cheese on a bagel. "But Jon doesn't  _do_ surprises."

Marge popped a strawberry into her mouth and smirked. "Must be quite something then, what he has in store for you... Don't get your knickers in a twist."

***

It was a quarter to six when Sansa entered the Winterfell grounds. She'd dabbed on a little more make-up, but left her hair loose. She was wearing Jon's favourite dress and ballerina flats, deciding to forego heels for her walk in the Godswood.

She'd decided to take Margaery's advice to heart, and tried not to work herself up over Jon's unusual behaviour. When she reached the clearing around the Heart Tree, she noticed she was not alone: a group of about two dozen people was already gathered there.

As she got closer, she recognized Arya and Gendry, Robb and Jeyne, Bran and Jojen, mother with Rickon in the back. On the other side of the path Marge was bouncing up and down on her feet, Brienne's hand on her arm probably the only thing keeping her from taking flight.

All of their friends and family were there: Jon's mum Lyanna, Sam and Gilly, Satin, Pyp and Gren, Mya, Myranda, Theon and Asha, and even her boss, Tyrion.

The more people she recognized, the slower she started walking, her jaw dropping, the uneasy fluttering inside her stomach replaced by a dazed bewilderment.

And then she saw Jon standing under the Heart Tree, his curls tied back, his eyes glued to her face and his fists clenched by his sides. He was wearing a black button-down shirt and slacks, looking gloriously handsome.

He smiled when their eyes met and cleared his throat. "Who comes? Who comes before the gods?"

She felt a hand on her elbow and looked at the person standing next to her. Her dad took her hand. She must have managed to close her mouth earlier, as it fell open again now. She hadn't even realized he was missing before.

"Sansa Stark comes to beg the blessings of the gods," he answered Jon's question. "Who claims her?"

Part of Sansa registered he hadn't gotten the words exactly right, but that didn't really matter.

"Me, Jon Snow," Jon declared. "Who gives her?"

"I, Eddard Stark, her father," Ned stated formally, voice seeping with pride, before leading her forward to close the gap between them and Jon. He placed her right hand in Jon's outstretched one and kissed her cheek, stepping back.

Jon clasped her hand tightly and went down on one knee. "Will you take me, Sansa Stark?" he whispered, dark eyes boring into hers. "Will you do me the great honour of becoming my wife?"

Tears clouded her vision and choked her voice. She took a couple of deep breaths and tried to swallow the lump in her throat. "Yes," she breathed. "Yes," she repeated more clearly, so everyone around them could hear. "I take you, Jon Snow."

Cheers and whoops erupted around the weirwood tree, as their audience started clapping. Rickon's voice echoed across the clearing: "Are they married now?"

"No, stupid," Arya retorted. "I told you: they're only engaged!"

"Arya!" their mother scolded her. "Don't call your brother stupid!"

"I was holding back, mother! I know more colourful ways to express my opinion," she muttered under her breath.

Sansa turned her attention back to the man in front of her. He'd risen to his feet again and was sliding a slim, elegant ring around her ring finger.

"Do you like it?" he asked. 

"I love it!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around his neck to kiss him. He wrapped his arms around her in response, holding her close.

She pulled back, shaking her head as she searched his softly smiling eyes. "How?" she started incredulously. "Did you plan all of this? And everyone knew? I didn't have a clue! I had no idea Robb was capable of keeping a secret! Or Rickon! And Dad!"

He kissed her again, cutting off her babbling. He brushed her hair back from her face. "I was hoping you'd like this. You deserve something special," he murmured against her lips. "And it appears everybody we know agrees."

She bumped their noses together. "It was wonderful," she whispered, still breathless.

"There's a table waiting for us in the Glass Gardens, Tyrion's treat," he said. "I'm afraid that does mean you're working weekend shifts for the rest of the season," he added, draping an arm around her shoulders to lead her away.

She locked her arms around his torso, lightly poking him in the ribs over his awful joke. She put her head on his shoulder and sighed. "I can't believe you really did this. You're such a dork, Jon."

"Mmm," he hummed back. "But I'm your dork. You're stuck with me, soon-to-be Mrs. Snow. You better get used to it."

 


End file.
